Practical As Always
by disguisedxlies
Summary: A series of one shots. SweeneyxLovett. Chapter Eleven Up!
1. Deep Down

The rain was pouring down from the sky, drowning the streets quickly. Not that most were out and about at this time. After all, it was the middle of the night. Typically, one should be fast asleep, warm under a blanket or two. Sweeney Todd however, was not.

He walked quickly down Fleet Street, his feet sloshing in the growing ammount of water staying on the ground. Even though it had only just begun to rain, he was already completely drenched. The moon's light was his only guidance, but he didn't have far to go. And besides that, he already knew his way all too well.

This wasn't his first time going for a walk in the middle of the night. In fact, he did so quite often. Sleep was never able to find it's way to Mr. Todd. His wandering mind never allowed it to. Occasionally, he would just let his mind go where it wanted. Or rather, it would go without quite asking permission. Other times, he would leave before his mind would have any say in the matter. He would take a small walk.

The cool air calmed Mr. Todd. It gave him the ability to breathe without it hurting, to live without feeling spiteful. More than anything, it let him be alone, without feeling alone. When up in his shop, he would remember his past. He would know that he used to be with his wife and child. He would know that he couldn't be with them. He would know he was alone. Those feelings went away out in the cold.

Which is why, on such a cold and rainy night, Sweeney Todd was wandering alone -- 'was' being the keyword. He hated the rain. He thought it made the streets of London even more gloomy than they already were. It also made him feel disgusting.

Rain, to Mr. Todd, was nothing but dirt falling from the sky. So when walking in the rain, he felt as though he was covered in grime, coated in the revolting substance that no one seemed to like. Deep down (where ever that was), he knew it was water. Dirty water, perhaps, but water none the less. He knew water falling from the sky would cause discomfort, which was the true reason he walked back to his residence on Fleet Street. His excuse, if anyone asked, was grime.

Sweeney stopped in front of Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium and frowned. He hesitated slightly, and then walked inside. He gave a sigh of relief as the warmth hit him. It was always warmer there than it was in his parlor. Maybe that was Mrs. Lovett herself, a lot warmer than he ever was. Always there for him, she was.

_Why aren't you ever there for her?_

He frowned yet again, before shaking off the thought. The entire purpose of that walk wasted in not even a minute. Or, perhaps not.

The purpose of the walk was to stop him from thinking the depressing and anger creating thoughts of Judge Turpin, Lucy, Johanna. . . Not Mrs. Lovett. There wasn't many depressing thoughts Sweeney could create from Mrs. Lovett, not with her colorful attitude. No, she seemed to be more of an upper than a downer, so to speak.

She did always help him whenever he needed it. He slit customers throats, she cleaned up the mess that followed. He stained his clothing, she tried hard as she could to get the blood out. He sat around most of the day, she worked hard to give them a good life. He gave her the meat for her pies, but that was purely out of his own vengence.

It may have been the lack of sleep, the cold, or even "the grime" possessing his mind, but he felt compelled to repay her. That couldn't wait for morning.

Sweeney walked into her small bedroom, his shoes squeaking on the floor. Mrs. Lovett was asleep on her side, her hair even messier than usual from the night. She looked content, as always, and just a tad more peaceful than normal. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he sat down beside her sleeping form. He had no intentions of waking her up right that moment, but a drop of water from his hair fell onto her face. Her eyelids fluttered open as she pushed herself up with a frown on her face. Once she saw who was sitting on her bed, she let out a gasp.

"Mr T! What are you doing in here?"

Sweeney stared into her eyes. He never quite realized the beauty of them, the complexity of her personality shown ever so clear. . .

"Mr. Todd?"

Without much of a second thought, he pressed his lips against hers. He wanted to think he'd regret this in the morning. He wanted to think he would stop what he was doing any second.

Deep down, he knew that tomorrow would probably be a better day than he had

experienced in a while.


	2. Rest

She had a variety of thing to do each day, but it was always the same. Grind the meat, make the bread, make the pies, put the pies in the oven, take the pies out of the oven, serve the customers, talk to the customers, take the customers money, recommend Mr. Todd to the gentlemen, clean up any blood Mr. Todd may have drawn throughout the day, and repeat as many times as needed.

Of course, there was Tobias to help Mrs. Lovett around the shop. He would serve the customers ale and pies, but wasn't allowed anywhere near the baking room. She couldn't have him knowing the truth. So she had to cut meat of the unlucky customers, grind the meat, put the ground meat into the pies, and cook them all herself.

Yes, Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies had become quite the business because of Sweeney Todd. No one took much notice of the shop before he came. Those who did regretted it. Needless to say, Mrs. Mooney's meat pies were much more acclaimed than Mrs. Lovett's at the time. Now however, Mrs. Lovett's were all the rage in London. Plenty of customers each day, and plenty of money as well. One would expect the "grand re-opening" had given her the money to continue such a successful business. Little did they know that the meat was made from customers who went upstairs for a shave.

She was grateful for Mr. Todd, of course. Even before they had to make something out of the bodies of those he preyed upon, she was grateful for him. She never tried to hide that, nor anything else she felt towards him, but he remained oblivious. Or rather, choice to ignore her. Lucy was still fresh on his mind, after all.

Lucy, the beautiful blonde who every man lusted after but only one had the chance to marry her. Lucy, the blue eyed girl who kept mean-spirited thoughts to herself and was nothing but kind. Lucy, the pale skinned beauty who never gave any other woman a chance with Benjamin Barker. Mrs. Lovett wanted a chance. Still did, and she never hid it.

Which was why, rush at her shop busy as it was, she was carrying up a tray of food to Sweeney Todd. Nothing much, just some bread and soup. The same as always. He never ate it, no matter how much she persisted. She often wondered how much they fed him in prison. It could have been the reason for his lack of hunger. That's what she wanted to believe, any ways.

Mrs. Lovett paused outside his door, balancing the tray on one hand and knocking. "Mr. Todd?"

She paused for a few moments. No answer. Always the quiet type, her Mr. T was.

She opened the door and poked her head inside. He was staring out the window,as always, giving no acknowledgement of her presence. She sighed gently because continuing into the room. She walked over to him, holding the tray out in front of her.

"I brought you up some food, Mr. T. Thought you might be hungry. Heaven knows, the one day I don't bring you something you may very well want it. We couldn't 'ave that, now could we?"

She walked over to his table and placed the tray on it. She proceeded to turn around and head before the door, but suddenly there he stood. His gaze was on Mrs. Lovett's hand, which was wrapped in a bandage.

"What's that?" he asked, taking her hand lightly in his.

"Oh, that? Nothin' but a scratch, love. Knife slipped when I was preparing the meat. Nothin' at all."

Sweeney frowned, running his thumb over the spot where blood had seeped through. She winced. It didn't go unnoticed.

"How deep is it?"

"Oh, not very. Like I said, just a scratch! It's nothin'."

Before Mrs. Lovett could even finish speaking he was unwrapping the bandage to inspect her hand. The cut was quite deep, and blood had already begin to run again.

He began to wrap her hand up again, now gazing at her face. His eyes locked with hers. Her heart started racing.

"You shouldn't be working with that," he told her, "Dangerous, that is."

She laughed gently, trying to calm herself. "Don't be silly, Mr T! After all, I'm only serving the customers and preparing pies. I 'ave Tobias to help me, I'm fine!"

Sweeney glowered at her. His cold eyes stayed focused on her warm ones, his emotionless face inches from her hers.

"Go rest," he said quitely. His warm breathe hit her face, making her shudder.

"Mr. Todd . . . That isn't necessary, I'm fine, I told you. It's only a scratch, after all. I'm perfectly fine working, I mean, I'm not at all straining myself or--"  
"Go rest."

"Anything like that. Just carrying pies out of the oven and up to the--"

"GO REST!"

Mrs. Lovett jumped back gently, fearful of his glare. His blazing eyes. His tense stance.

"But what about the customers?"

"I'll take care of it."

"But Mr. Todd--"

"I _said_ I'll take care of it!"

She nodded gently, worrying lacing her glance as she hurried towards the door. She glanced back at him quickly before walking out the door and closing it behind her.

After Sweeney Todd heard her footsteps reach the bottom of the stairs, he let out a sigh and put his head in his hands.

"Stupid woman can't even appreciate me giving her a break," he murmured, shaking his head and walking towards the door to go down to the bake oven.


	3. Weak

**AN: So, this morning, on the radio, when I heard this film won two Golden Globes, I started dancing. And screaming. And singing. And laughing. All at once. This deserves an update, I believe. Congratulations to this film and Johnny Depp. **

**Also, I realize I haven't posted a disclaimer on the past two chapters. But here it is.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd.**

**As well, I believe Mrs. Lovett's eyes are hazel. If not, pretend they are, for me. And, I realize this chapter isn't as long as the others, I apologize.**

--

He was well aware that she was staring at him. Too aware, almost. Her hazel eyes were burning holes into the side of his head. He wouldn't allow himself to look at her. If he was to so much as glance at her, she'd smile. That smile that nearly went off her face whenever he paid any attention to her. He hated that smile. It made him weak.

Sweeney Todd was not one who enjoyed to be weak. No, not at all. He was never weak. He stayed strong when blamed of "foolishness". He stayed strong while being taken away from everything he loved. He stayed strong when told of his wife's fate, his daughter's fate, his old life's fate. He never would have guessed that a smile from a woman, a woman other than Lucy, would make him weak.

Mrs. Lovett had seemingly worked wonders on him, however. He had been able to stay calm as long as her reassuring words were whispered gently in his ear, as long as she was always there to take care of the evidence, take care of everything. She took care of him. He hadn't felt taken care of in so long.

So, he didn't look. He couldn't look at her. Her vibrant hair, always in that messy pile atop her head, was never so attractive. Benjamin Barker had always been a man for blondes, his Lucy was a prime example. Yellow hair the color of wheat, pale skinned, with bright blue eyes. She always wore the most colorful dresses, blending perfectly with her almost colorless body.

Mrs. Lovett . . . She was pale skinned, with auburn hair and hazel eyes. She held not the innocence Lucy did in her eyes, but secrets. Curious as he was, he would never ask her what those may be. Often times, when almost about to ask, intrude her privacy, he would get quite distracted by the emotions that shot through her eyes. That emotion was something Lucy never seemed to have.

_"Mr. T, what's wrong, love?" Mrs. Lovett placed her hand lightly on his shoulder once behind him._

_Sweeney's face remained vacant, as always. He didn't think it was much of her concern._

_"I can see it in your eyes, Mr. Todd. You're not your usual self. My, not even pacing! Not to say that's a bad thing, mind you. But, it can't be good considerin', what, it's only been but a few minutes since that man came up 'ere."_

_"I'm fine, Mrs. Lovett," he muttered, shrugging her hand off of him. _

_"Now now, love. You don't need to lie to me! What, with us living together and whatnot. Well, not really living together, I suppose. I mean, you're above and I'm below in this buildin', but still, it's close enough, ey'?"_

_Sweeney remained silence, not much wanting to reply._

_"Mr T, seriously now, love. You needn't be this quiet!"_

_Silence._

_"It's about your Lucy, isn't it?" Her voice quieted, and she backed up a bit. _

_It was then that he turned to look at her. As his eyes met hers, he saw something in her eyes. Something different, almost fearful._

_"Mrs. Lovett?" He asked._

_It was gone, replaced with the joyful look that she always adopted whilst he paid her any mind. Her eyes swirling with a gentle, caring, loving look. "Yes, Mr T?"_

_He shook his head gently, "Nevermind."_

_Mrs. Lovett wouldn't let it faulter her mood. "Come now, let's get you some gin. That'll cheer you right up, it will!"_

Suddenly, she was giggling.She was smiling. That alluring smile, the one that made him weak, and he realized he had been staring at her, just as she had been staring at him. Her smile broadened as he looked away quickly, trying to regain his composure.

He was aware she was smiling at him. Too aware, almost. Her painted lips burned an image into his mind. He wouldn't allow himself to look at her. If he was to so much as glance at her, she'd smile even larger, and her eyes will fill with that look. The look that nearly made him feel the same way she did. He hated that look. It made him weak.


	4. Gentle

**AN: I apologize for any mistakes in this story and any possible horrible-ness. So, I thank everyone who's so much as read this story. I much appreciate reviews, seeing as they inspire me to write more. Thank you :)**

**Also, sorry this took me a while to get out.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd. Wish I did though. **

She lay down by the fire, resting her weak body in the more comfortable of chairs she owned. It had been a busy night, she and Tobias both were constantly on the move. Her body ached from exhaustion, but she resisted the urge to sleep. Though her eyes were closed, she was aware of everything going on. She could hear Tobias snoring on the couch across from her, the gentle crackling of the fire . . . And the footsteps falling heavily on the stairs.

Mrs. Lovett opened one eye lazily to make sure she wasn't imagining things. The sounds were confirmed real as Sweeney Todd's figure appeared in the main entrance. She quickly shut her eye and slowed her breathing as he walked into the room.

She exhaled gently as his footsteps neared where she lay. They stopped as he reached her side, and she could hear him kneeling down beside her. She tried to keep her breathing steady, tried to keep her heart from racing, tried to keep herself under control. Sweeney's breathing was just slightly quieter than her own, but inhaling and exhaling at the same pace.

Her body stiffened ever so slightly as he brushed a stray hair from her face. His skin was rough and cold, yet all too gentle for Sweeney Todd. He let his fingers linger on her forehead for a few moments before retracting his hand and muttering a profanity under his breath.

Time passed slowly to Mrs. Lovett. She knew he was still kneeling by her side, and that he was obviously having a battle with himself. All the while, thoughts flew through her head. Thoughts of his appearance beside her, thoughts of his motives, thoughts of everything to do with Mr. Todd. Suddenly, she felt a slight pulling at her hair. He was taking her hair down.

He pulled the pins out of her hair one by one, letting her auburn locks fall around her face gently. It took all her might to keep her breathing under control, and even more to not open her eyes to look at him. She tried to imagine what he looked like right now. Was his hair combed back as always, or had he not cared enough to put it back? Did his eyes hold the same hatred and fury, or were they the calm, caring eyes she had used to know from Benjamin Barker? Was he dressed in his normal attire? Mrs. Lovett couldn't imagine him wearing anything different. Not even what he wore back then, fifteen years ago.

Most of her hair was down, reaching about mid back. Sweeney's face was close to her own, and it made her nervous. Would he notice that she wasn't sleeping? Did he already know? No, he wouldn't know. If he knew he wouldn't be doing this, he wouldn't be paying her any mind. As he pulled the last pin out of her hair, he moved his head back slightly.

She could feel his eyes examining her, though not reaching anywhere below her neck. It made her feel slightly at ease, but not as much as she wished it would. She kept her hair up because of it's unruly nature, and she didn't particularly want him to see it the way it was now. Whenever she took her hair down, it was a complete wreck. Always sticking out every which way, never flowing the way she wished it would.

Mrs. Lovett thought of Lucy, how her hair was always perfect, whether she had it up or down. Her blonde locks always gleamed in the sun, and oh, how Benjamin would smile at her when she just let her hair be. She remembered Lucy saying one day that he preferred it that way, he preferred when she didn't put so much work into her looks. A slight blush had creeped over her face when she informed Mrs. Lovett how he said she was beautiful no matter how she presented herself; a look of envy crept into the eyes of Mrs. Lovett.

Her thoughts were interrupted as cold lips were pressed against her forehead gently. She couldn't help but tense slightly as he pulled away.

"And she was beautiful . . ."

His tone was not of Sweeney Todd, but of Benjamin Barker. The whispered words remained with her as he got up and left.

It was only after she heard his footsteps falling heavily on the stairs that she let herself break into a large smile. A small blush crept onto her face as she opened her eyes to see her hair sticking out all over the place, as always.

For an instant, she truly believed his words. She was beautiful.


	5. Glow

**AN: I will start updating more often, I promise. D: I've had a bit of writers block. Sorry. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sweeney Todd.**

He twirled his razor around delicately in his hands, as though it may break if too much pressure was applied. His deep, nearly black eyes glared at his reflection in the blade. His reflection stared angrily back at him. He stopped twirling his friend to stare at himself. Although the image before him was blurred, Sweeney Todd was slightly taken aback by his appearance. The menacing scowl upon his pale face, hatred filled (and darkened) eyes, and the general weariness that his face screamed out. How he'd changed since those many years ago; the joyful barber replaced with the vengeful one. His frown deepened as a low growl sounded from his throat, and he dropped his razor onto the barber chair.

Mr. Todd began to pace. Back and forth, back and forth, always passing the window over, and over, and over. Always staring straight ahead, from the mirror to the wall, and back again. His scuffed boots clunked heavily on the wooden floor, the sound irritating his ears greatly. Another growl escaped him as he quickened his pacing, only to be more agitated. Thoughts raced through his heads, painful memories flooding back all at once.

Lucy, sitting on a bench, standing in front of a mirror, smiling, laughing, gazing thoughtfully, turning around, accepting his proposal, always smiling and happy.

Johanna, staring up at him unknowingly, laughing happily in Lucy's arms, reaching out for him, the first time she tried to eat real food, sleeping.

Judge Turpin, staring down at him with a smirk plastered on his face, swinging his arm to slam the mallet down.

Sweeney let an agonized yelp out before crumpling onto the floor and covering his ears with his hands. He could hear everything amplified, but more than that he could hear her voice. Her sweet, singsong voice . . . Her laughing, every sound he'd ever heard her emit. There was a ringing in his ears, growing painfully loud and then reducing to a low buzz. Her words repeated, the ringing repeated.

He shut his eyes tightly, pulling his head to his knees as he tried to stop his thoughts. Mr. Todd started to shake as the Judge's words filled his mind. Sentences, foolishness, Johanna. . .

Another strangled noise came from Sweeney's trembling body as he tried to calm himself down. His hands were clawing at his hair, dragging it down so it hung in front of his face. He couldn't stop the sobs that came from his throat, but he could stop tears from sliding down his face. He wouldn't let himself cry, he never cried.

He pictured Lucy, that night with the Judge . . . He imagined how terrified she must've been. He could almost picture her face . . . Almost. Her face was blurry, but he could see her hair. That yellow hair. She would have been wearing blue. No, white. No, no, she didn't wear white. Pink? No, yellow.

"No! No, no, no !" He yelled out the words, but his sobs broke it up so it merely sounded like another yelp. His pale, strong hands had moved to his face, grasping at the object that had been the cause of his breakdown. The sight of himself had him on the ground, in utter distress.

_London has lost it's glow._

A hand was placed on his shoulder. He pushed himself backwards, actually _fearful_ that someone had seen, heard, been in his presence while he was like this. He removed his hands from his face carefully to look up at the person observing him.

Mrs. Lovett was staring at him, compassion clear in her hazel eyes. She was down on her knees, level to him. "Love . . .?"

Her voice was hesitant, as were her motions as she pushed herself back closer to him to put her hand back on his shoulder. Her knees hit his.

She continued to stare at him, moving her hand down his arm to try and calm him.

He was still trembling. Her worried eyes took in his appearance. He supposed she hadn't seem him with his hair this way, nor with the expression he probably held.

She reached forward and lightly put her hand on his cheek, stroking it with her thumb gently. "Hush, now, love. It'll be alright."

Sweeney shook his head. It wouldn't be alright. He knew that. It never was.

Mrs. Lovett leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, emitting a sigh as he did so.

His eyes went wide. Warmth came from her body, creating a great contrast between the temperature of his body and her's. He eventually gave in, and he leaned his head against the side of her's casually.

"Thank you . . ."

"Oh, it's no probably a'all, Mr. T. Anythin' I can do to help, you just let me know, I'm always righ' 'ere, love. Always 'here."

"Nellie."

She gasped at the sound of her first name. Never had he called her that before, and he knew it. She went to pull away to look at him, but he immediately wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

He didn't want to not have her near him, he needed it, if only for a moment. He needed the glow she now had since he used her first name. That would go away if she stopped holding him.

London needed a glow.


	6. Expectation

**AN: Okay, it's been a while. I had this all wrote up and everything, I was just to lazy to post it. Sorry. D:**

It was a dreary day in Mrs. Lovett's eyes. Just another day in London, she hated to admit. Always the same depressingly gray sky, and the even less colorful characters roaming Fleet Street.

She sighed, prying her eyes from the window to turn them to the ceiling. The gentle footsteps of Sweeney Todd graced the air. A smile eased onto Mrs. Lovett's face as she finished cleaning the last of the previous night's dishes. It was about time to open shop for the day, she figured, and she very well couldn't have dirty dishes laying about.

After she finished, she walked over to the window and flipped over the sign to read 'Open!'. She pushed a stray curl into it's proper place just as Tobias walked in. She turned to face him and took in his appearance. His hair was disheveled as always, and he was rubbing at his eye sleepily. Her face soften, she had probably woken the poor boy up.

"'Morning', Mum," he greeted, yawning directly after.

"Good mornin', love. Watch the shop for a few minutes, will ya? I 'ave to go say g'mornin' ta' Mr. T. Mind you, I doubt there'll be any customers this early, ey'? Just incase though, keep an eye on the door."

"Okay, Mum," he said with a broad smile.

Mrs. Lovett smiled back gently as she pulled open the door.

The stairs leading up to Sweeney Todd's Tonsorial Parlor always creaked noisily. However, she paid that no mind as she walked up the stairs, skirts swishing about her ankles, heels clicking rhythmically against the wood. She stopped in front of the door and knocked. The sound echoed softly as she called out the man's name. She didn't quite expect an answer, but hoped for on all the same. She shook the hopeful thoughts from her head and entered the room.

He sat in his chair, staring idly at his razor. His almost black eyes gleamed in the dull morning light it reflected. He looked up as the bell jingles merrily. A smile spread across Mrs. Lovett's face.

"G'mornin', Mr. T! Not a very pretty day out, it it? All gray an' gloomy, shame. Waste o' a perfectly fine day, wouldn' ya say, love?"

"It'll be a fine day when the judge's throat spews forth the sins he has committed."

Mrs. Lovett sighed, "Sure will be, love. Anythin' tha' gets some life into ya will be perfection, it will."

Sweeney flicked his black shut and opened it again. He continued doing so as Mrs. Lovett looked about the room. She sighed as her sight fell on a dried puddle of blood to the right of the chair.

"Ya could'a told me ya gave a close shave 'fore I said g'nigh', Mr T. Ah well, 'ittle extra work couldn' do me no 'arm."

She walked over to his desk to grab the cloth she kept there. She picked it up and walked back over to the blood. She knelt down in front of it and started scrubbing at the now black substance.

Mrs. Lovett could hear him snap the blade shut again and again. Besides that, he made no noise as she worked. He was just as quiet as she expected him to be.

"My, my, my, Mr. T! This just won't come off! Bloody 'ell, them rubies ya speak so fondly o' sure are stubborn 'ittle buggers, ain't they?"

She felt his eyes on her as she continued to scrub at the floor. Her eyebrows knit together. It just wouldn't lift.

"'Oever this came from 'oughta give me a good 'mmount o' money from them pies, ey'? What, wit' the time I'm spendin' 'ere on this bloody mess! Was 'e big at all, Mr. Todd?"

Sweeney gave a small chuckle, "I believe so, Mrs. Lovett. But does that mean you left his body laying down there?"

Mrs. Lovett turned around to look at him. A small blush fell over her face.

"Well, it was a right busy night, it was. I was tired, ya see, and I very well couldn' get Toby to go down an' 'ack 'im to pieces. I'll ge' workin' on tha' once I finish 'ere. 'Opefully you'll be gettin' some customers 'fore I get the noon rush, ey'?"

Sweeney nodded, a lock of black hair falling into his face. She let her gaze linger on him for a few moments. She sighed and returned to the blood.

After several minutes of scrubbing, it finally lifted. Mrs. Lovett gave a satisfied grin and looked up at Sweeney. "There. Took a while, but it's all clean now, ey', love?"

He looked at were there had previously been a large ammount of evidence of his crimes. "Yes, pet. Yes, indeed."

She smiled at him before rising to her feet. Mrs. Lovett smoothed her skirts and walked towards the door.

"Mrs. Lovett?"

"yes, love?" She turned around to look at him. The gleaming silver lay in his lap, and his eyes rested on her face. She could feel heat rise to her face yet again.

"I went with gillyflowers."

She gave him a confused look.

He got up and walked over to the table. A vase say on top of it with gillyflowers in it. He gestured towards it. "You asked me whether daises or gillyflowers would be better, remember? I chose gillyflowers."

Mrs. Lovett smiled. She didn't think he was listening when she asked him that. "They sure brighten up the room, don' they, love?"

He nodded, grabbing a flower and indicating Mrs. Lovett to come to him.

She did so, a gentle smile still on her face. He had listened, it was all she ever asked of him.

When she stood in front of him, he placed the gillyflower carefully in her hair. His face darkened immediately afterwards. Emotions flashed through his eyes, which singled her to leave.

Mrs. Lovett walked back to the door and opened it, stepping out quickly. "I'll be up later with some food for ya, Mr. Todd".

With that, she made her way down the stairs.

xx

She stood in front of her mirror after the long nights work. Her hair was as disheveled as Tobias' had been that morning, yet the gillyflower remained placed in her hair. Her face glowed, but her eyes indicated how tired she truly was. She supposed the true reason she was so joyful was because of Sweeney Todd's earlier actions, but there was another reason that had made many happy that day.

The sun had shone quite brightly that afternoon.


	7. Gleam

**AN: There's been many different things I've read, and all of them point me in different directions. So, for the sake of this chapter, please pretend that Valentine's Day was invented back then? I've read things that said it was, so hopefully they were correct. :) I had a strange desire to write a story for that day. ;D **

**Also, this is inspired by "You Are The Moon" by The Hush Sound. The song reminded me terribly of Sweeney's character.**

**--**

They were young. The boy had dirty blonde hair, and the girl was brunette with golden highlights shimmering in the gentle morning glow. He held a single red rose out to her, and she squealed, leaning in to kiss him. She had to go on her toes, as she was much shorter than he was. He wrapped his arms around her tiny waist, and she flung her frail, pale arms about his neck.

Sweeney Todd grimaced at them. They stood below his window, oblivious to anything else around them. He was disgusted by the act of romance in public as they made it out to be. They looked to be in their early teens, each with a look of total innocence on their faces as they smiled happily at each other in their embrace. He turned away from the window, and stalked over to the wooden case his fine, silver friends laid in. He opened it slowly, listening to the loud creaking it created. The inside of the box had grown slightly tattered, he figured the years hadn't been particularly kind to it either. He figured it ironic, that both him and the box that held his most prized possessions had a rather rough fifteen years. He, locked away in Australia; the case, locked away under a dusty old floorboard.

There was a sudden knocking at the door, as gentle as her footsteps had been coming up the stairs, that interrupted his thoughts. He turned around to see no other than Mrs. Lovett now entering the room. Her hair was in it's usual pile on top of her head, and she was dressed in one of her fancier dresses. She had her hands behind her back, and a smile graced her face. He looked away, back towards the couple out on the street.

"'Ello, love! Beautiful day, innit? Sun is shinin' an' all, pretty as anythin' in the world, ey'?"

He grunted in response. She always talked about the weather, every day. He normally didn't mind much, but the young couple had already agitated him.

"Do you know what day it is today, Mr. T?"

He looked at her. He couldn't remember what month it was, let alone what day it was. "No."

"Mr. Todd! You silly man, it's Valentine's Day! February fourteenth, it is! I always loved Valentine's Day, every since I was a little girl I did. I loved celebratin' it, always sad whenever it was o'er."

It was around then when he stopped listening to her and started thinking. He vaguely remembered actually enjoying Valentine's Day. He used to like to buy Lucy things, but more so on that particular day. He couldn't remember what he would buy her, but she always loved it. He knew that, she'd smile . . .

"Mr T! Are ya listenin' to me?"

"Of course, pet," he mumbled, avoiding her glance.

She sighed, shaking her head. "Ah, Mr. Todd. Always off in your head, you are, ey'?"

He walked over to the window without acknowledging what she said. The couple were still there, talking as people passed by. The girl still had a smile on her face, as did the boy. She was talking at a fast rate, and the boy laughed.

Mrs. Lovett placed a hand no his shoulder as she walked up beside him. "Pretty li'l thin', ain't she? I can only 'ope that boy isn't usin' the poor girl, but knowin' men nowadays. They always seem to be doin' that, ey' Mr. T? It's a right shame, it is, makin' a innocent thin' believe lies like tha'. It ain't righ' t'all."

He looked over at her. Her expression was as serious as her words, until a look of realization over her features.

"Oh, Mr. T, I nearly forgot! I got ya somethin'."  
She turned to him, holding out a small box. She looked up at him with a shy smile on her face.

"I didn' get ya anythin' for your birthday, Mr. Todd. I wanted to, but I didn' 'ave the money then. But with this nice bus'ness we 'ave runnin' 'ere, I've got money to spend on ya, 'aven't I? So, this 'ere is for Valentine's Day and your birthday."

Sweeney looked at her. She was staring at her feet, with a light blush on her face. He turned his glance to the box, which was dark wooden with 'ST' engraved in gold. He unsurely took it from her and opened it.

Silver gleamed up at him, bright as the midday sun. Five new silver razors sat inside the box, all greatly contrasting the dark velvet insides of their case. He ran a hand over one of the handles delicately. They had cost her quite a sum of money.

"I can understand if ya don' want 'em, Mr. Todd. I know you're quite fond of your ol' ones an' all, but I thought you migh' wan' somethin' knew. I got the man to engrave your initials into the case, and your name into them razors, to add some personality to it, ya know? Ya don' got'ta use 'em if ya don' wan' to, though."

He took one of the blades out and flipped it open. 'Sweeney Todd' was indeed engraved into the blade. That would have cost her much more money than the razors alone. He flipped it shut and put it back.

She looked at him, her face growing redder as she looked at him. He thought it to be amazing the effect he could have on the woman was. So much as a glance at her and she was embarrassed. It hardly made sense to him.

He placed the case next to his old one, and looked at her. There was a gleam in her eye, one of hopefulness, anxiety, and something he couldn't quite place. He knew the emotion, but he couldn't put a name to it.

Sweeney reached his arm out. He knew he shouldn't. He shouldn't show her any affection, he shouldn't show her any mind. Lucy, he couldn't betray Lucy. So he hesitated. Only for a moment, before pulling Mrs. Lovett against him.

She wrapped her arms around his body, sighing contently as he placed his head on top of hers. He stroked her hair gently, whispering a gentle "Thank you."

She buried her head into the crook of his neck, muttering "'Welcome," in response just as the bell jingled.

He quickly released the woman, looking up to the bearded man standing in the entrance. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Sweeney placed a welcoming smile on his face, "Not at all, sir. Here for a shave, are you?"

The man laughed, "Yes, I do believe it's about time for one."

He heard the bell jingle as Mrs. Lovett left but paid no mind to it. "Take a seat, sir."

--

He walked up behind his last customer of the day, a smile on his face as he placed the knife against the man's throat. He dug the tip of the blade in, and began to drag it across. The body jerked violently as blood began to spew forth from his neck, covering Sweeney's arm in the red substance. He pressed the blade in harder, and pulled across the rest of the way. As the body's movements ceased, he rounded the chair and stepped on the pedal, sending the body down to the baking room.

He didn't watch this as he normally would. He was too fascinated by what he held in his hand, a brand new silver razor. Blood dripped off it, but that wasn't what interested him. No, he was interested by his name, engraved in the silver beauty. Blood had filled it. It was beautiful, compared to the darkness that was everywhere around him.

--

**I'm not too happy with this one. Tell me what you think, though. I like reviews. :D**


	8. Watching

**AN: I can't even explain in words how sorry I am for the lack of updates. D: I keep getting a bunch of random ideas coming to mind, and so I have about six started paragraphs saved on my computer. I'm so sorry. D: **

**Oh, but I much thank the numerous reviews I got on the last chapter. I was quite insecure about it, but you all seemed to like it. :) Thank you.**

**I think this one might be a bit out of character, and a bit short and random. I'll get a better one out next time, I promise.**

It was strange the patterns blood seemed to take on his shirts. It branched off, like a tree, on the sleeves, and bloomed gracefully, like a flower, on the chest. It was quite beautiful when the blood was fresh, but as it dried the beauty dried up with it. The patterns flaked and turned brown, making her think of them as stains instead of patterns.

Mrs. Lovett never stayed around to watch him kill his customers, so she didn't know if it was the arterial spray that created the patterns, or if it was how the blood soaked into his shirt, spreading into the different fibers, branching and blooming. Either way, she found herself mesmerized by it every time.

That particular day, she had the pleasure of walking in just as the body fell through the trap door. He looked at her and let a small smile slip onto his features. Of course, Nellie smiled back without even realizing. His smile, faint as it was, seemed contagious to her.

"Writer," he said, indicating to where the body just slid through, "Told me he just finished writing about his adopted daughter's death. Said he has no other family."

She smiled wider, "No one's gonna be missin' 'im then, ey'?"

He walked towards her swiftly, obviously not noticing the way she tensed as he grew nearer. He leaned forward, his breath hitting her ear. "Not a soul."

She shivered, watching helplessly as he backed away abruptly. He took a few steps backwards and stared at her. She guessed that her face showed he confusion and disappointment because he shook his head and muttered, "Nothing, love, nothing."

She smiled, "O' course, dearie. Gim'me tha' shirt now, s'all bloody. Customers won' come'n see ya if ya got a bloody shirt on, will they?"

Sweeney nodded, agreeing, beginning to unbutton his vest to give her the previously off-white shirt.

Nellie had grown used to the man doing this when she asked for his shirts, but she still got that weak-kneed feeling whenever he stood before her shirtless. She busied herself playing with her skirts, adverting her gaze from his form to the ground. She let her thoughts wander

--

_It wasn't the best of days. In fact, it was rather dreary. It had been stormy on the previous day, and just calming down then. The skies were clouded and gray, a light drizzle of rain splashing soundlessly on the ground. Business wasn't as strong on this particular day._

_That didn't bother Mrs. Lovett, however. She still worked away, rolling out the dough, brows knit in concentration. She hadn't heard the footsteps on the steps, nor the small bell sounding. It was until his spoke with a harsh tone that she looked up, noticing her presence._

_"I need you to wash these for me. I have no more clean shirts."_

_She stared at him. He stood in front of the counter, shirtless, holding the blood stained shirts in his arms. If the shirts had caught her interest, she would have noted that there were quite a few. However, she couldn't have been less interested in the pile of shirts. Her attention was focused on his body. It was as pale as his face, scarred heavily from his years in Australia. He was actually rather muscular, but in an incredibly slim way. She couldn't help looking at him. He was absolutely beautiful._

_"Mrs. Lovett, if you care to stop burning my image into your mind, then I would like you to wash these shirts for me."_

_She looked up at his face, heat rushing to her face as a smile smirk found it's way onto his face. "O' course, I was jus'. . ."_

_"Momentarily stunned?"_

_Her face grew redder. "No, jus' . . . countin' how many shirts ya had there."_

_He continued smirking, "I never knew that you could count something without quite looking at it."_

_Nellie's blush deepened further, "Mr. T.."_

_His smirk changed to a small smile. "Just clean them for tomorrow, would you?"_

_With that, he walked out the door. Leaving the poor baker alone to try and calm herself down._

_--_

"Mrs. Lovett."

She looked back at his now shirtless form, feeling the familiar heat rise to her face as she accepted the shirt, still damp from the blood.

Sweeney looked at her, a flicker of emotion spreading across his face. He shook his head and stalked to the other side of the room. "Leave me."

Mrs. Lovett let a sigh escape her lips, "Yes, Mr. Todd. If ya need anythin', I'm down in the bake 'ouse washin' this 'ere shirt for ya. Come'n get me if ya need me."

He said nothing else.

--

The blood stains were twisted and swirled. They blended into one another, creating intricate designs all over the shirt. She never understood how such beautiful colors, patterns, and pictures could come from such worthless people. Gray shells, with this lusicious hue inside, swirling through their veins, just waiting to spilt. If you have to die, why not do so beautifully? Why not let your true beauty show on a canvas of white, instead of a disease eating away at you slowly. The world would never see your beauty. In way, her and Mr. Todd were doing these people a favor. Showing their beauty, and relieving them of the pains of life.

Blood brought out the things that Mrs. Lovett never ever thought she would think. It was like a demon, possessing you and taking over. Somewhat like her Mr. T. She'd do anything for him, she cooks people into pies for him, and he's changed her way of thinking, just like the blood. She never would have thought that the simple sight of blood could send her mind wandering like that, thinking about things that seemed strange to her own mind.

She sighed, dunking the shirt into the water, watching as it turned a slightly darker tone. She was just creating another canvas for him. He could create all the art he wanted, and she would look for hours on end, never tiring of his only using the same color.

**AN: Wow, the ending is all over the place. I'm not happy with that, and I believe this is a little bit short. I just started writing the ending, and that came out. I'm sorry if it doesn't make much sense. I think I like the last paragraph, though. What do you think? I like reviews.**


	9. Whispers

**AN: Okay, I'm in Maine right now. I had about a ten hour drive to get here, so I wrote most of this on the drive. Sorry if it's not too good, I'm a little too tired to edit it. I hope you enjoy though. I'm not sure if I even like the idea that I came up for this one with, but whatever. Enjoy.**

The sky was black, the moon hidden by clouds. The only light in the small room was that of a candle, burning on a small table beside the cot. Its glow illuminated the man's face, showing the dark circles under his eyes and the almost translucent skin color her had.

The barber was writing. He had a small black book in his left hand. He mumbled to himself quietly, his right hand keeping its constant flow across the paper. He let a smile creep onto his face slowly during a pause in his writing. He then wrote another line, elegant handwriting now filling the page. He sighed gently as he placed the paper on the floor. It was one of those nights where he wouldn't sleep, he knew it.

It wasn't because of his thoughts of feelings, his obsession or hate. It was because he could hear them. Who, he didn't know. But he could hear them. The whispers in his ears, calming or frightening him. It was never both. At the moment, he couldn't tell what it was going to be. He never could at first.

'That's the world, isn't it? Dark, a near death experience ever day,' a small, gentle voice murmured in his ear, quoting a line that he had just wrote. 'Yes, for some. Perhaps, however, Sweeney Todd is immune to such. So much higher than the rest, isn't he?"

Mr. Todd growled. "No, we all are the same, despite how people hold themselves." He couldn't help but reply to the voices he heard.

'Oh, but you hold yourself rather high, don't you? Higher than the baker, for sure. Higher than the judge, of course. Anyone who crosses your path. Never can they live up to your mightiness. Killing makes you one step ahead of the all, doesn't it?'

He got up, walking over to the window. He placed his hand on the cool glass, staring out into the empty streets.

_Shadows . . . Everywhere._

"No."

'Ah, but you seem to be forgetting something, Mr. Todd. You kill them because they won't be missed, or so you say. You must hold yourself higher than them. Otherwise, you would kill yourself. Who would miss you?'

Sweeney placed his head against the glass next, closing his eyes. "I can't die yet. I have to avenge my wife. I have to save my daughter. I have to get revenge for what that bastard did to them."

A hard laugh echoed over his words, continuing for a few moments after. 'Your wife? Why avenge her? She didn't even lift a finger in protest when you were shipped off! Stood there with your daughter, she did, like nothing even happened!'

"Shut up," he growled, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. His left hand clenched into a fist.

'Hah! So you know it's true! You know she didn't even try to defend you, nor seem to care if you were shipped to Australia on a false charge!'

"Shut up," His voice rose. His body trembled.

'And that story the baker told you about what happened to your wife after you left! The girl didn't even use her head! When a man wants you, he'll do anything to get you. She knew that, but still she went to Turpin's house! Then she goes and poisons herself, knowing your poor child would end up with that man!'

"Shut up." His voice rose again as he pounded his fist against the window.

'She doesn't deserve to be avenged, and the sailor will save your daughter, no one will miss you.'

He walked over to the cot that was pushed to the corner of the room and sat down on the edge. He put his head in his hands, trying to control his trembling body. "You're wrong."

'Unless you count the baker, Mrs. Nellie Lovett. She'd miss you, but what do you care for her? She spends her days looking after you; you wouldn't live if it wasn't for her. But you don't care for her at all, or so you say.'

He continuously shook his head, trying to keep the words from getting to him.

"Mr. Todd?"

'Oh, she'd miss you. That doesn't matter though, you're better than her.'

"No, shut up!"

". . . Mr. Todd?"

'You don't even look at her, you don't even-'

"Shut up!" Sweeney screamed, digging his nails into his skin.

"Mr. Todd!"

He snapped his eyes open, raising his head to meet her stare. Her face was quite close to his, a frightened and worried look plaguing her features.

He blinked, staring at her, breathing heavily. Her face softened and she placed her hand on his arm. He flinches away.

"Mr. Todd. . . You were yellin', so I came up 'ere to see what was goin' on. . ."

She lowered her gaze, a sigh escaping her lips. "You were screamin' at yourself. . . Scared my senseless, ya did. . . I'm not gon'na ask ya 'bout it, Mr. T. . . Don' think you'd wan'na talk 'bout tha', ey? Jus' wanted to know if you were okay. . . Are ya okay, Mr. Todd?"

He tried to fight off a violent shudder that threatened to shoot through his body, but couldn't. A shaky sigh left him as he shook his head slowly. He didn't want to give into his weakness. He really didn't.

Mrs. Lovett sat beside him slowly, still looking at him intently. "Want me to stay with ya a bit? I can leave if ya want me to, but I can stay too. S'up to you, Mr. T."

He looked at the floor between his feet. He wanted to be alone. He knew that. He truly did. "Stay."

She moved closer to him, so that her thigh brushed his. She hesitantly reached out to pull him against her. He didn't struggle; he just let himself fall against her body. She wrapped both of her arms around his frame, placing her head on his shoulder and he rested his shaking body against her. The barber, going insane, and the baker, trying her best to stay sane for him.

They stayed like that until the sun rose, hitting their pale faces. Sweeney opened his eyes to a mass of auburn hair covering his view. He couldn't help but smile. He was wrong, he did sleep.

**AN: So, that was it. Review please, they make me smile and encourage me to write more. :) Also, 95 reviews! Wow, you guys. That's incredible. I love you all; you make me have confidence in my writing. Thank you so much!**


	10. Jealousy

**AN: Okay, quicker update:D So, I was thinking, but I need feedback from you guys. :) I've suddenly taken a liking to the last chapter I did, so do you think that I should make a series based on voices in Sweeney's head driving him mad, and Mrs. Lovett trying to keep him sane? I'm not sure whether or not I should, as I don't know if it would be overkill on the topic, so if you guys could tell me your thoughts it would be nice. :) Thanks to all of my reviewers, over 100 reviews! That's crazy, thank you all so much. :)**

**Oh, also. I finally bought the full soundtrack (not just the highlights, yay!) and the movie companion book! Yay for Borders! I also bought a Sweeny shirt and poster. Yay. Also, you can buy Sweeney Todd to watch for $12.99 at the hotel. I'm buying it. Haha. xD Anyways, on with the chapter. I hope you enjoy. **

Eleanor Lovett cried. Not very often, but she did all the same. The strange thing seemed to be that she never cried over herself. Her tears were shed over the man residing over her shop. While he paced the night away, she would typically stare at the ceiling until she drifted to sleep. Sometimes, however, she couldn't help but cry.

Saturday nights were always rather busy, which created more work for both Nellie and Tobias. The latter ran around to serve, while the former was constantly back and forth from the bake house and the customers. He would have a joyful expression of his face, as would she. Both enjoyed their work, as both were rather social. To work at a business such as Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies, you had to be social.

"Toby, this gentleman needs some ale!" she called, gesturing to an elderly man who was sitting quite comfortably in his chair.

"Comin', m'um!" the boy called back, rushing over to serve the man.

She ruffled his hair lightly before walking over to another table to talk with the few who sat there.

The dinner rush passed quickly for Nellie, but she was glad to sit down and take a break. She sighed in relief as she sat at a seat near the entrance to the shop. Tobias had said he would finish cleaning up for her. He was a good kid, really. He never misbehaved, nor disobeyed any orders. He also helped out whenever she needed him to. She was grateful to have taken the boy in, and felt rather motherly towards him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Tobias' voice saying her name. She looked up at him and smiled. "What is it, love?"

"There's a man outside, m'um. 'E says 'e wants to speak wit' you." He looked towards the doorway and then back to Mrs. Lovett.

"It's not 'bout the pies, is it?" If the man couldn't read the sign that said 'Closed!', she wouldn't have a word with him. She was done for the day.

"I don't known, 'e didn't say what it was about."

Nellie sighed, getting to her feet. "Okay, love," she said, walking to the door. "It'd better not be 'bout the bloody pies."

Upon opening the door, she saw a man dressed in higher quality clothing, indicating his wealth. He had a sly smirk plastered on his rather tanned face, and a twinkle in his eye. "Good evening, Mrs. Lovett."

She nodded, "G'evenin'. Sorry if you was wantin' a pie, but the shop's closed 'til mornin', ya know."

"Oh, I know. I did not come for one of your pies, although they are delicious."

She raised an eyebrow. "Then wha' did ya come for, Mister . . ?"

"Brown. Alexander Brown. I came to inquire something of you."

Nellie bit her lip gently. "Wha' is it you's wantin' to know, Mr. Brown?"

He laughed, his deep voice echoing through the quieting streets. "Please, call me Alexander. I would like to know whether you would like to take a walk with me around the park tomorrow. We could get to know each other a little better." He walked slightly closer to her, smiling as he did so.

Mrs. Lovett frowned. "We don't even know each other now. I jus' learned your name, Mr. Brown."

Brown's smile faltered, "Well, that's the point of getting to know each other. Just give it a change, you might enjoy yourself!"

Nellie bit her lip cautiously, a sigh coming from her mouth. "Mr. Brown, 'm'sorry, but I'm not interested. I 'ave my eye on someone already, I jus' don' really--"

"Mrs. Lovett!"

She spun around to stare at the man who had come up behind her. "Mr. T! Gave me a frigh', ya did!"

He didn't look at her. He was busy glaring at Mr. Brown. "Who's he."

She turned to look back at the taller, better dressed man. "Oh, 'e's Mr. Brown. Jus' stopped by to visit, 'e did."

"Actually, I stopped by to ask Mrs. Lovett to accompany me on a walk tomorrow."

Nellie turned back around to look at Sweeney, a light blush appearing on her face. He scowled, "And did she agree?"

Alexander Brown sighed, shaking his head. "No, she didn't seem too enthralled by the idea, so I will take my leave of you. Good night, Mrs. Lovett." He reached to grab her hand, but she pulled it away.

"Come with me, Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney growled before he could say more, grabbing her shoulder to pull her with him up the stairs.

Once in the barber shop, he pushed her against the wall roughly. Nellie gasped gently as he pressed his body against hers. "Who was he?" His voice was harsh, but it was his eyes on her that made her frightened.

"Mr. Todd. . ." she whimpered gently, worried that he had a razor behind his back.

He pushed her harder against the wall. "Who was he?!"

Mrs. Lovett shook her head as fast as she could. "I don't know, Mr. Todd! 'E just showed up, I'd never seen 'im before, I don't think! If I did, I didn't know 'is name 'til now! Please, Mr. Todd. . ."

Sweeney's face was inches from hers, his breath hitting her with every exhale, his eyes filled with rage. He suddenly turned away from her, stalking a few feet away. He placed his hand on his chair, now seemingly staring at the worn seat.

She stared at him, confusion setting into her mind. She didn't understand why it was so important to him, or why it upset him so much. She walked over to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Mr. T. . ?"

He sighed, gripping the chair tighter. "I don't want you to talk to him again."

Sweeney turned back to look at her, looking a little calmer but still angry.

"Mr. T, 'e started talkin' to me. An' I'm not gon'na just not talk to someone when they talk to me. An' anyways, why's it matter so much? It was jus' a friendly conversation, it was!"

"That's just it Mrs. Lovett! A friendly conversation with the likes of him, then you would have taken a walk with him, and God knows where you'd end up for the night!"

"Mr. Todd! I'm not a whore! I said no when 'e asked me to take a walk wit' 'im! I didn't wan' to!"

"He'll keep coming back! You encouraged him by acknowledging him! He'll come back, and ask you again, and you'll give in!"

"Mr. T, why does it matter to you what I say to the man?"

He clenched his fists, "It doesn't. I just don't want you to be taken advantage of."

She tilted her head to the side slightly, her eyebrows knitting together. "I wouldn't 'ave said yes to 'im anyways, Mr. T. An' if I did, I wouldn't let myself get taken advantage o'. No man's gon'na treat me like tha'."

He walked a step closer to her, "Why do you let me push you around all the time, then?"

Nellie looked up at him, at a loss for words. She knew it was true, she never complained about the way he just expected her to do things for him, she just did them. If he needed anything, she was right there. God knows she would satisfy his needs if he wanted her to.

"You're different, Mr. T. S'not the same."

"How isn't it, Mrs. Lovett?"

She looked away, blushing. She could feel him looking at her, wanting an answer. She wanted to tell him, really. She couldn't, though. She didn't want him to react badly. She couldn't risk it.

"It's jus'. . . Different, Mr. Todd. You're different, I feel different for you then for some man off the street. S'not the same t'all. . ."

Sweeney stepped closer to her again, placing his hand on her cheek. "Just don't talk to him, or any other man, again."

He walked over to the case holding his razors, pulling one out gracefully. "Leave me, now."

She nodded, turning away. She sighed, turning her to look at him again. Always staring at his razors, treating them like people. "G'nigh', Mr. T."

--

Eleanor Lovett laid on her side, a tear sliding down her face. He was right; she let him take advantage of her. Not in the sense he had meant, but she would let him take advantage of her that way as well. She couldn't understand what had gotten into him. She didn't know why he reacted the way he had. She didn't know why he pushed her against the wall so roughly, and then moments later tenderly placed his hand upon his skin.

She couldn't understand it one bit. She knew he was complicated, she never doubted that. She just wished she could understand.

**AN: Alright, should I make the next chapter be Sweeney's view of this ordeal? I'm thinking about it, because I'd like to write his thoughts on the whole thing. Yet again, I'm not sure if it would be overkill on the topic. Let me know your thoughts, and please review. :) I hope you enjoyed.**


	11. Jealousy Part 2

**AN: I know I told some of you I'd get this out by Friday, but a lot of stuff came up. I have a huge project and school started again. So I am seriously very sorry. This was the soonest I could get this out. I'm so sorry. Anyways, this is Sweeney's thoughts on the last chapter, and I will begin writing a new story about Sweeney hearing voices (and other sub-plots) soon. I hope you enjoy, and thank you everyone who has reviewed! Especially you who review every chapter, you are too kind. :)**

He never knew how to feel when it was the last customer of the day. Should he be relieved that more vermin had been rid of the world, or set in a bad mood as he hadn't gotten Judge Turpin? Normally, it was both. As he would bring his razor across the man's throat, the blood flowing in a beautiful arch out of his neck, he wouldn't ponder his emotion. He knew his emotion then, sick joy. Seconds after the body slid down through the chute, skull cracking against the hard floor below, he would think about what he felt. As the thud echoed below, he would walk over to his window; eyes clouded, and try to figure it out.

On Saturday nights, there was always a steady flow of customers. After finishing a pie, they all seemed to find their way to Sweeney Todd's Tonsorial Parlor. Every third customer be sent down to the bake room, and the other two would probably help themselves to a man more closely shaved than themselves. He always killed his last customer, except if they brought family with them. That was something that never changed.

Quite the joy to Mr. Todd, his last customer of the day had not come with any family. If Sweeney had been a generous man, he would've given the man the shave he very much needed, and sent him on his merry way. However, unfortunately for the customer, Sweeney Todd wasn't the generous type, nor did he think anything of being kind to the human race. 

So within moments of the man making himself comfortable, Sweeney brought his razor across his throat violently. He had a firm grip on his shoulder to keep the body from convulsing out of the chair. Once the blood turned to a slow trickle, Sweeney slammed his foot on the pedal. Without waiting more than a second after the body slid down, he walked over to the large window. Mrs. Lovett must've closed her shop for the night, as there wasn't anyone around. The only one outside was Tobias, piling dishes and wiping off the counters.

He walked over to his chair, where he had left a rag, and picked it up. Upon doing so, he strode back over to the large panel window, only to be taken aback. Where Tobias had previously been standing, a grown man now stood. A frown formed on his face as he cleaned his razor off. He hadn't seen him before, and why was he there? Wasn't it blatantly obvious that the shop was closed? 

Mr. Todd shook his head, walking over to the desk to place his razor perfectly in its case. He brushed his finger across it before closing the top, and walking back over to the window. He was yet again taken by surprise. Mrs. Lovett was now standing outside as well, talking to the man. Sweeney growled, clenching his fist. He then took the time to examine that man.

He was well dressed, obviously from a richer part of town, with well groomed hair and fancy clothing. Sweeney took note to the way his eyes flashed to the woman's chest for a quick moment, and the man's smirk became all the more disgusting to the barber. 

Mrs. Lovett looked wearily at the man before her; he could see from her eyes that she was questioning his motives, just as Sweeney was doing. There was no doubt in his mind what he was talking to her for, however. He knew what he wanted.

The man laughed. Mr. Todd could hear it clearly from his shop, and pulled his lip back into a grimace. He talked to her, smiling largely, taking a step towards her. Mrs. Lovett frowned, her eyebrows knit together as she began to talk to him.

As the man's eyes darted yet again to Mrs. Lovett's chest, Sweeney began to stalk away from the window. He wouldn't let anyone violate her that way. His wife had been raped. He wouldn't let his baker end up the same way.

His feet clunked heavily against the old stairs, but he could care less about the element of surprise. He just needed to get her out of there. He could hear Mrs. Lovett talking, but didn't focus on her words. He was looking at the man who stood across from her, and was taken aback for the third time that night. In the first up close glance Sweeney had at him, he was reminded of Judge Turpin, fifteen years ago. He had the same brown hair, and the same smug look on his face. His eyes. Oh, his eyes held the lust that Mr. Todd saw in Turpin's eyes when he spoke of Johanna. The same look that Turpin had all those years ago, when Lucy was almost in his grasp. He could feel the hate building inside of him, the boiling in his veins, the fire in his eyes.

"Mrs. Lovett!"

She was completely unaware until that moment that he was behind her. She gave a small gasp as she turned to look at him, 'Mr. T! Gave me a frigh', ya did!"

He wasn't really listening. He wasn't even looking at her. That man's face. He could tell he was just like Turpin, exactly like that bastard. "Who's he." He couldn't stop the venomous tone from lacing his words.

Mrs. Lovett turned around again to face the other man. "Oh, 'e's Mr. Brown. Jus' stopped by to visit, 'e did." 

He could tell she was lying. Her voice betrayed her.

Sweeney opened his mouth to say something, but the man, Mr. Brown, interrupted him. "Actually, I stopped by to ask Mrs. Lovett to accompany me on a walk tomorrow."

His face darkened, he had the same clean accent, the same cocky tone. How dare he ask _his_ baker to go on a walk? How dare he even speak to her with nothing but thoughts of disgusting acts in his head? 

He didn't notice Mrs. Lovett turn around to face him yet again. He kept his gaze on Brown. "And did she agree?"

He shook his head with a sigh, but Sweeney could tell that he wasn't exactly done trying. For tonight he may have been, but he'd try again. Men like that always did. They got what the wanted. "No, she didn't seem too enthralled by the idea, so I will take my leave of you. Good night, Mrs. Lovett."

The man reached to grab her hand, but she pulled it away, narrowing her eyes slightly. 

Sweeney put his hand on her shoulder. He wouldn't let Brown say anymore. "Come with me, Mrs. Lovett."

He began to pull her up the stairs, not noticing how fast he walked, nor how she stumbled on a few steps along the way. Brown hadn't left yet, and he wanted Mrs. Lovett out of his sight.

As soon as he opened the door to his shop, he pushed her inside, pressing her against the closest wall. He pressed his body against hers. She was safe for the night. He couldn't hurt her tonight.

"Who was he?" 

Sweeney could tell she was afraid. Her eyes had widened, and he could feel her heart racing against his chest. "Mr. Todd. . . " It was a whimper.

"Who was he?!" He leaned more of his weight against her, not to hurt her, but to keep her where she was.

Mrs. Lovett shook her head, her hair hitting his face. "I don't know, Mr. Todd! 'E just showed up, I'd never seen 'im before, I don't think! If I did, I didn't know 'is name 'til now! Please, Mr. Todd. . ."

He was too close to her. He worried about her getting raped, yet here he was, slamming her against a wall. He turned away, walking to his chair. There was still a bit of blood from the last customer on the seat. He placed his hand on the arm of the chair.

Sweeney could hear her footsteps coming up behind him, and then he could feel her hand being lightly placed on his shoulder. "Mr. T. . ?"

He sighed, she was warm. He thought that Mr. Brown probably assumed she was warm also. He gripped the chair tighter. "I don't want you to talk to him again." He turned to face her, trying to calm down. It wasn't working to well.

"Mr. T, 'e started talkin' to me. An' I'm not gon'na jus' not talk to someone when they talk to me. An' anyways, why's it matter so much? It was jus' a friendly conversation, it was!"

It wasn't Mrs. Lovett's fault his anger started to return again. It was that man. The mere mention of him caused anger to flow through Sweeney.

"That's just it, Mrs. Lovett! A friendly conversation with the likes of him, then you would have taken a walk with him, and God knows where you'd end up for the night!"

Her eyes widened, "Mr. Todd! I'm not a whore! I said no when 'e asked me to take a walk wit' 'im! I didn't wan' to!"

"He'll keep coming back! You encouraged him by acknowledging him! He'll come back, and ask you again, and you'll give in!"

"Mr. T, why does it matter to you what I say to the man?"

She should know. She should see the resemblance. She should see that he is just like Turpin. He clenched his fists at the thought, "It doesn't. I just don't want you to be taken advantage of."

Loose hairs fell around her face as Mrs. Lovett tilted her head to the side in confusion. "I wouldn't 'ave said yes to 'im anyways, Mr. T. An' if I did, I wouldn't let me self get taken advantage o'. No man's gon'na treat me like tha'."

He thought to when he pushed her against the wall, just moments ago. She would've let herself been taken advantage of then. She would do anything he said. He knew that. He walked a step closer to her, eyes softening. "Why do you let me push you around all the time, then?"

She looked into his eyes. She opened her mouth a few times, and then closed it again. The third time, she spoke. "You're different, Mr. T. S'not the same."

"How isn't it, Mrs. Lovett?"

A blush rose to her face as she looked away from him. It suited her, and kept his eyes on her. 

"It's jus'. . . Different, Mr. Todd. You're different, I feel different for you than for some man off the street. S'not the same t'all. . ."

He didn't understand, but he knew it was hard for her to say. She stuttered, and her cheeks were red. He stepped closer to her, and placed his hand on her cheek. She was almost too warm. "Just don't talk to him, or any other man, again."

Mr. Todd needed to think. He needed to clear his head. He needed his razors. He needed to feel the cool silver in his hand, instead of the warm flesh of his baker. The warmth confused him. 

With the cool metal in his hand, he calmed down. His anger washed away, as did his confusion. "Leave me, now."

He didn't hear her leave. He never did. 

The streets were empty, but it was easy enough to find him. He was talking to one of the whores, which didn't surprise Sweeney in the least. After Mrs. Lovett refused him, he'd need to find his satisfaction elsewhere. In the dark alleyway at night was the perfect place for a man to do so.

Sweeney waved the beggar off, and she scuttled away without much of a complaint. She could see the murderous glint in his eye, and no doubt the silver in his hand. Mr. Brown watched her round the corner, and began to turn around. Before he could do so, Mr. Todd put his razor to the man's throat, digging it in roughly and dragging it across. 

**AN: So, what do you think? Yet again, I'm so sorry for the delay. Review please, they make me smile. :)**


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